She holds up her hand to the bathroom window, feels cold air piercing. Early morning, still dark, the children asleep. She unspools a strip of foam, one-handed. At her feet, a diagram displayed on her mobile phone. Using a screwdriver, she pries off ragged remnants of the original weather-stripping. When she stretches to reach the top rail, her ribs ache.
Continue reading “Safe House by Alain Kerfs”
Ethel Jordan holds her hands out in front of her. She never liked her hands. The fingers are stubby, too short to be mistaken for the fingers of a pianist which she had wanted to be in another life.
Continue reading “Just Trying to Make a Living by Donna M. Williams”
She has a gun sitting in her lap. It’s stark against the pretty floral pattern of her dress. Like a bomb ticking away in a family’s flower garden, and Reverend Davis has no idea what to do about it.
Continue reading “Eye of the Hurricane by Engela Snyman”
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